


The Game We Play

by FujinoLover



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: No more hide and seek, so now they are playing chicken.





	The Game We Play

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write about an angry sociopath and her flirty girlfriend, hopefully this doesn’t sound like them.

Eve should have learned from experience that confronting Villanelle on her own wouldn’t end well, but she owed her after the last time with the Ghost. Promised that she would give her everything she wanted. So when the gift came, hand-delivered to her, she decided to go for it without consulting Carolyn first. Because while Konstantin was Villanelle’s handler, Carolyn was hers, but both of them should’ve known that no one could really control the monsters.

The gift was a simple black box that fit on the palm of her hand. She’d locked herself in the bathroom beforehand. If the box contained some sort of deadly nerve agent, or biological weapon, or an explosive, she had contained the casualty to only herself. Her breath was taken away when the lid lifted and a rose gold brooch rest snug in the velvety interior of the box.

There was a card peeking on the side. She went for it first, holding it away with caution, just in case Villanelle did something to it, but it was only a whiff of her trademark perfume that greeted her. It was the card of some hotel, with the room number written on the back. She had never gathered her jacket and purse so fast in her life, getting a cab instead of commuting and fidgeting with her hair throughout the ride.

Being with Villanelle was like bungee jumping. The fear and excitement buzzing through her veins before she took the jump. She knew she was safe, but there was a never ending possibility that she might have as well jumped into her death, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from stepping over the edge. She continued to tease Death, perhaps until the cord gave in and she landed with a splat.

The excitement left her blind. She should have seen it coming, really, with the first attempt ended with her stabbing Villanelle and the second time she was being tricked with the arsenic. She should have expected that Villanelle wouldn’t be waiting for her with open arms and they wouldn’t fall into bed together with a less bloody ending.

Still, she couldn’t help but whimper as Villanelle pressed her against the back of the hotel door, pausing only for a moment as their faces a hairbreadth away, eyes searching. She lifted her chin in defiance and submission and a dare all at once. For whatever it was that Villanelle chose to see, she smirked before closing their proximity, kissing her hard, enough to make it bruise. She didn’t tell her to stop— _never_ wanted her to. It was a long fall and she hadn’t seen where she might land yet.

She was glad Villanelle didn’t simply drop by like she usually did. If she was going to do what she thought she was going to do, she would rather not do it in the home she shared with Niko. He was a perfect gentleman, always putting her over himself. His edges were soft where Villanelle’s were razor sharp that would cut her if she got too close and all she ever wanted was to bleed. She loved Niko with all of her heart, but they had never been this passionate, not even when they were younger and now they were the old married couple everyone always joked about and _oh God_ what the hell she was doing cheating on her husband with a much younger woman, _who happened to be an assassin she really should have apprehended instead of banging_ , her brain chimed in, as if such reminder would shake her awake from this stupor.

Her conscience had left long ago and it wasn’t coming back, not when Villanelle’s hand cupped her breast and she steeled herself for the harsh grab that never came. “I’m having a midlife crisis,” she said once they parted. She ignored the hand that was still on her chest, pushing against her ribs as though it was trying to claw her heart out. She looked at Villanelle, really looked at her and her youthfulness and beauty and the danger emitting through her whole being and her heart ached. She wanted to hurt _and_ protect her, it sent her head spinning. “Or I’m losing my mind.”

Villanelle snorted at the statement. “Mm-hmm.” It was always like that. Excuses she didn’t bother to validate, because who could really resist _her_ anyway?

Eve laughed then, a full-bodied loud one that had her throwing her head back with mirth. Villanelle’s annoyance for not being able to kiss her again—kiss her until it tasted like copper and all the stupid justification stopped pouring out of her beautiful mouth—was forgotten as she preyed on Eve’s exposed neck. Her free hand came up to grab on that amazing hair, keeping Eve’s head in its current position as her teeth grazed the skin and her lips caught the rush of air leaving Eve’s throat.

The MI6 should have taught Eve to never show her neck to a predator, where it was easy to take a bite on the jugular and snap the bones. Villanelle did just that, feeling both Eve’s heart and the pulse on her neck jumped at the bite. Eve’s hips bumped against hers and she grinned. Did she think by letting her hair down and offering her neck, Villanelle would kneel before her? She was still pissed about being used.

Eve was reeling from the way her body was reacting that it took her a moment to realize that the hand on her chest had replaced the lips on her neck and that it was squeezing. She spluttered, looking at Villanelle, who had stepped back to put a distance between their bodies and was staring at her as realization washed over her like a cold shower.

Villanelle tilted her head a bit, the perfect image of total innocence. “Did you think it would be that easy?” she asked. “To just take and not give anything back?”

 _No,_ Eve wanted to say if she could. _Of course not, you asshole_. Instead, she calmed herself down and took shallow breaths. Villanelle hadn’t choked her hard, but her grip was getting tighter by the second. She should have clawed at her arm or kicked her shin or did anything to fight for her life, but apparently the rational part of her brain had also abandoned her.

Not long ago, Villanelle had promised not to kill her. While she understood that psychopaths would lie through their teeth to get what they wanted and Villanelle was not any different and the stabbing thing might have nulled the promise, what was left of her refused to budge even as the hand locked around her throat and she could no longer steal short breaths.

Villanelle continued to stare at her, as if she was some fancy jacket she wanted to purchase but wasn’t sure if it would fit the rest of her wardrobe. There was only I-it. Eve huffed, leveling her gaze back. She wasn’t an article of clothing in some boutique. She wouldn’t give this arrogant woman the satisfaction of her _begging_ for her life. She might go without her conscience and rationality, but her pride remained.

The three minutes rule, she had two left at most. Her lungs burned, tears stinging her eyes. _This is it, this is the splat_ , she thought last as darkness crept on the edge of her vision and she felt herself slipping away. _People do stupid things when they’re in love_.

The hold was gone in that instant, the exhilarating rebound.

Eve gasped, greedy for the fresh air that her lungs and brain had been deprived of. She didn’t care that she was leaning her weight on the door, or that Villanelle’s strong hands on her hips were the only things keeping her up, or that she had that smug smile of hers on. She wanted to smack her across the face, but then she pressed herself against her again, all sharp bleeding edges, poisoning the air she was gulping with her perfume. Villanelle was claiming her, sneaking in and burrowing herself in every cell so she could nestle even in the smallest part of her.

Eve hated the aches such thought sparked under her ribs down to between her legs, but Villanelle was kissing her again. Trying to devour her alive. When her hand wrapped around her neck for the second time, she didn’t have enough time to prepare herself to fight back. The squeeze came quicker, harder. The last thing she saw was Villanelle’s smile before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped forward into her waiting arms.

She was unaware of the fingers pressing against the side of her neck, checking for pulse, or the rush of air disturbing her curls as Villanelle sighed in relief, or the warm peck on her cheek after she was settled on the bed. She awoke alone not an hour later, a bruise already darkened around her neck and an uncomfortable stickiness accompanying the unresolved ache between her legs.

With no Niko or Villanelle around, she resolved on righting the problem herself. She idly wondered if she should tell Villanelle about it the next time their paths crossed. If she should detail out about how she was left alone, unsatisfied, and that she reached a hand under her pants while thinking about a certain annoying assassin. She could just see her little smirk and the flare of her nostrils before they were covered by an adorable pout, ever the dramatic one. It would stroke Villanelle’s ego for sure.

Or she could be a little shit and tell her about how she went to find her husband instead—she liked that idea better.


End file.
